


A Different Road

by chaoticamanda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Or close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:32:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticamanda/pseuds/chaoticamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Where's your brother now, then?"</p><p>Dean realizes that things have changed, and each thought to ensue could be the one that breaks him. </p><p>[Basically Dean joins Abaddon and Sam tries to get him back, trying to show Dean that he really does love him. (Not Wincest).]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking This Road

_"Where's your brother now, then?"_

Dean can't get those words out of his head, no matter how hard he tries to. Crowley is gone and it's just him in a dirty and old motel room, with the Impala resting outside. It's always been dangerous when he's alone to his thoughts, but everyone he knows isn't speaking to him. Dean knows that it's his fault he's out of his home, but his mind nags and nags at him that  _Sam_ has not forgiven him again. Sure, it was a bit of a dick move on Dean's part to let Ezekiel, Gadreel, whoever, to possess Sam, but Dean had never been more sorry about anything in his life.

 

He'd do anything for his little brother, _anything._ Nothing in this world came before Sam, and that was how Dean figured family was supposed to be. 

But would Sam go that far for Dean? The more he thought about it, the more unsure he became.

Yes, Sam had attempted to sell his soul for Dean, but Hell, that was years ago. One year to them felt like three, and a lot had changed in that time. Dean shuddered; he's come to hate that word. Change had killed him, killed Bobby, killed Sam, killed probably everyone he ever knew. 

Sam was always lying to Dean, always hiding something. He hadn't even bothered to tell his grieving brother that he was alive, for fuck's sake! A scowl mangled Dean's face, and the mark Cain had given him burned. Shrugging, he shoved off his boots and let his head fall against the stiff pillow. Being angry didn't help anything, and it didn't make waiting any easier. 

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Apparently Crowley hadn't had any luck in scouring the ocean, because he stayed away from Dean in the following days. Dean felt weak and useless, sitting in packed bars and staring at his many drinks. There were no leads on Gadreel, no leads on Abaddon, and no cases in a ten-mile radius. Tonight found a drunk Dean fumbling around and trying to unlock his damn car. It was the second time he'd dropped his keys now. Finally succeeding, he took off haphazardly down the road, lead holding down his foot. 

The night was cool and crisp, the trees bordering the roads casting a darkness that nothing else could. The only sound around was coming from inside the small shack of a bar, where backwoods hicks were shouting and dancing. They were happy, the drunk stupor they drank themselves into protecting them. Dean's did the opposite.

Fuck Cas.

Fuck Sam.

Fuck Crowley. 

Fuck all of them. 

Who were they to say that Dean deserved exile? Out of all of them, Dean was pretty sure he was not the one who had the market cornered on screw-ups. Sam had freed Lucifer himself for fuck's sake!

A sudden pain in his arm caused Dean to jerk the steering wheel, his train of thought losing focus as the headlights of another car shone in his eyes. Not completely out of it, he jerked the steering wheel back again in a last-ditch attempt before the two vehicles collided. The last thing he saw before the blackness was a large brown pole and the last thing he thought was that maybe he should move his foot off of the gas. 

A steady beeping pierced into Dean's mind and he knew it was not Hell, because he'd been there before, and he knew it was not Heaven, because he was Dean Winchester. Still, this bed was a bit comfortable and the sheets smelled clean, so he couldn't be in that bad of a place. His eyes weren't even open and they already stung, so he rolled his head to the side to try and shield his face somewhat, because his arm felt heavy. 

Only one and a half of his eyes decided to open, and he managed to make out that he was in a hospital room just like the fifty others he'd visited. His brother was outside the door, talking to a doctor; also like half of the fifty visits. Wait.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was rough and dry, and it hurt to swallow. If he could have moved his arm he would have reached to his brother. All his anger dissolved, because Sammy was going to take him back. Sammy was going to forgive him!

"Hello, Dean." Cas was out of his field of vision, so Dean hadn't noticed him before. Now that Cas was half-angel or whatever, he had regained that ability to slip from people's vision, blend in almost seamlessly. "It is good that you've woken up. Sam..." Cas trailed off, looking awkwardly at the door. 

"Sam what?" Dean blinked a few times, turning so that he was now facing Heaven's Most Wanted. The light hurt his eyes; it was too bright and too sharp. Cas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, something that looked extremely out of place for the angel. It reminded him of Sam, a pang of fondness rattling in his gut. 

"Well, he...he wouldn't let me heal you."

Dean's stomach dropped like a rock. Sam was not here to make amends. Sam was here to make Dean pay more than he already had. Cas looked apologetic and for a moment Dean's anger flared, but mostly he was just broken. The door clicked open, the black door-glider swaying. Sam trailed behind the doctor awkwardly, eyes never meeting Dean's.

"Hello Mr. Rickwoll, my name is Doctor Stevens. You've been in a automobile collision. Do you understand?" Dean nodded, his eyes straying to the ceiling. The fight was gone from him. "Now, you've suffered a few broken bones and a mild concussion. You were extremely lucky to have gotten away this unharmed, especially since you were so intoxicated."

"Good to know," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "When can I leave?"

"Mr. Rickwoll, you bones are extremely stressed. Stepping foot out of that bed would send you to the ground in pain. You're staying here." The doctor wasn't going to budge, Dean was smart enough to know that, so he just rolled his eyes and nodded. The doctor was either satisfied or just really didn't care because he continued with, "I'll be back in an hour to draw some blood for tests. In the meantime just try to stay rested, alright?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks, doc," Dean's smile was tight and forced, giving off the air of an ache much like those of muscles that haven't been used properly in a long time. Sam still hadn't met Dean's eyes. The doctor left and everyone in the room stared intently at an inanimate object. It was Sam who broke the silence. 

"Dean...what the _Hell_ were you doing?" Maybe it was childish, but he thought that Sam didn't deserve to know what he was doing if he was going to be a complete asshole to him. So instead of answering, he gazed attentively at Sam's white shirt. "You could have been killed!"

Dean met his brother's eyes. "Shame I didn't, eh?" His laugh was cold and cruel. His younger brother softened only the tiniest bit, and Dean suddenly felt his chest heat. "Why are you even here, man?" Anger was pulsing through him, raw and sharp. 

Sam's eyebrows were raised, and even Dean could see the hurt on his face. "You're my brother."

"I'm poison." The words had already been spoken, but this time he wasn't sad, he was angry. "I'm Dean fucking Winchester, dead man walking, that guy who'd do anything for his family. And you, you're Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood. The boy who wants to be alone."

"Dean, you're being an ass! You're my brother and I love you, but-" 

The storm inside Dean was full-fledged and nothing stopped him from cutting Sam off. "There is  _always_ a but with you, Sammy. Everything I've ever done has been to protect you, no ifs, ands, _or_ buts." He didn't feel like himself. He'd never fought like this with Sam, and he'd never gone so far below the belt. "What have  _you_ done?"

"You know I'd-"

"You didn't even look for me in purgatory, Sammy," His voice was quiet now as his gaze shifted to the bed sheets. "You didn't even  _try."_

 _  
_"You're being a dick, Dean," Sam crossed his arms, his face red and tight. "I don't know what it is, but you're just..." He let the sentence trail off. The room was deathly silent, and Dean rubbed absently at his arm.

"Hey, human statue," Cas looked up, slightly startled that Dean was speaking to him. "Heal me."

"Dean..."

"Cas, just do it." His voice was firm and he refused to meet his brother's eyes. 

"I don't know how much I'll be able to heal, I'm slightly drained from your brother," Castiel pressed his hand onto Dean's arm and Dean felt heat spread through him as wounds mended. Cas pulled away, "You should be better than before, but you need to rest Dean."

"Yeah, thanks, Cas," Dean ripped the adhesive pads from his body and hefted out of bed, greatful there was no IV. He'd have to find some other clothes later. "I'm officially out of your hair. Adios, Cas."

Dean made for the door, his fist clenched. "Dean, wait!"

It wasn't Dean that answered Sam, but resentment, "Don't waist your breath."

* * *

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?" The woman pressed her heel to the man's throat. "Tell me, is there any reason I should spare you, Dean Winchester?"

Dean grit his teeth, struggling to breath, "You like making my life Hell?"

She pouted, "True, but I think it's time for big bad wolf to be blown down, don't you agree?"

He swatted it at Abbadon's leg, his sleeve sliding down his arm. "Stop monologuing and just kill me already, bitch." 

Dean let his arm fall back so it was above his head and attempted to raise his eyebrows around his suffocation. Abbadon peered at him, her eyes slightly widening. "That is not possible."

"Having performance issues?" Dean spat, groaning when she removed her heel and yanked his arm up to her face. She was staring at something on him. 

"Where in Hell's name did you get this?" Her voice was steel and ice and he felt confusion trickling through him. He glanced down at the crease in his elbow where she was glaring and remembered the angry red marks. 

"A friend."

"Winchester...you do know what this means, don't you?" Her voice had changed, taken on almost a cooing quality. "You're the same as me."

Anger flared in his stomach as he snarled, "I am nothing like you!"

"Oh, but you are."

"You're angry, Dean. You're alone. You just want to fight." She looked at him, "Tell me, where is Little Sammy now?" Something snapped inside him and  all he could see was red. "Of all the things I've done to you, I've never lied to you. I'm not the one you should be angry at," she cooed. The anger inside him felt drawn to her, like water to a drain. She was right. "You can rule with me, Dean. That's what you deserve."

Dean looked at her slowly, his eyes zeroing in on her silver earrings. He could himself in them, and he swore that his eyes were black.

* * *

Crowley always had a way of finding the Winchesters. This time it happened to be while Cas and Sam were at the scene of a murder. In his suavish way, he slipped up behind them and tapped on their shoulders. "Boys, we have got a very large problem."

 


	2. Where The Road Leads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things just need to happen for life to go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really hard to write, and I know that it is far from the best. A lot of technical difficulties occurred, which is why it took so long. Thank you so much for the comments, they helped motivate me a lot!! Anyways, next chapter is the last, so prepare yourself... :)

 

 

"Winchester." The growl came from the shadows and Dean's head snapped toward it. He was restless. His mind felt clouded and that made him angry. He was forgetting something important.

 "Dumbass," Dean nodded to the shadows, his eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

 "Abaddon sent me," A young man stepped out of the shadows. The host looked strong and sharp, Abaddon's new personal preference for her followers. "She has news."

 Dean was still getting used to the faces of the demons. They were like black smoke in the shape of a corpse. Of course, some looked different. Abaddon had flecks of red embers in her swirl, just as Dean had caught in his own eyes. This demon, Cecil, was only special because Abaddon had made him her own right hand man. "And?"

 "Crowley has conveyed what we expected. She suspects that he may have ceased his search for the weapon. His followers are curious as to where he's been." Cecil looked at Dean with disgust. "Abaddon believes you can be strong, but we all know you're weak. How she trusts you, I'll never know."

 "Thanks," Dean took a swig from his beer, taking a moment to stare at the dark liquid inside. "Anything else?"

 His voice was stiff and formal and it felt haunting. It brought him back to when John was alive. Dean shook his head slightly, clearing the filth from his brain. He wasn't a soldier anymore. He was a commander. "In a few hours a group is heading out to gather information on Kansas and if necessary, clear it of angels so we can begin our search. You'll be leading them."

 "Alrighty," Dean's eyes shifted from the bottle to Cecil and his legs dropped from their resting place on the cheap table. "Abaddon knows where to find me."

 Cecil rolled his eyes and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Dean rose from the crappy chair, slinging his small satchel over his shoulder. He was going house hunting.

 

* * *

 

The paint was peeling and the floors creaked, but Dean settled his things down anyway. Someone had broken in and spray painted "Hail Satan" across one of the walls on the first floor, which made Dean laugh quietly to himself. The house came furnished with a thick layer of dust over the plastic sheets covering everything. When Dean had picked the lock he'd broken it, but it didn't make much difference to him. Nothing that would be coming after him would pause at a lock. He spent the next hour discovering all the fancy upholstery in his new home and pumping a fist when the water still worked.

 Sooner or later a caretaker would come round, because no one would just pay for the water in an abandoned house, but Dean didn't care about that either. The house must have been grand in its time, but now it was only kinda sad. Dean didn't want to think about the connections.  His knife lay tucked in his pocket, but he laid all the other weapons he'd scavenged out on one of the beds upstairs. When Sam and he had moved into the bunker, he'd made his room exactly how he wanted it, weapons and all. He'd only kept a select few in the impala. The only one that he left out now after he inspected them all was his angel blade.

 "Love what you've done with the place," a voice cooed behind him and he rolled his eyes. Abaddon didn't wait for a response, "It's time. The others are waiting." She touched his arm with only a few fingers, and he flinched. When he looked up he was in front of a rusty warehouse off of a docking station. Sighing, he flipped up his collar and slowly walked inside. Since he'd been short on clothes, Abaddon had gotten him some. She said the leather jacket made him look moreintimidating, which made him roll his eyes.

 Three other demons lurked around and he rolled his eyes as he came closer. "I don't see any angels," Dean said, gesturing around the building with his hands. "Where're we going?"

 The demon in a heavily-built woman spoke, both of her faces sharpening. "The place is a block away. A group has been hanging around an elementary school. We suspect they have remembered what we're looking for and have begun their own search."

 "Great," Dean rolled his eyes. "Pedophile angels. What more could you ask for?"

 The demons never laughed at his jokes. One day he'd get them to, if it was the last thing he ever did. "Look, Winchester, no one wants you here. It's only because Abaddon ordered it that you are so-"

 Dean cut him off, fists balled. "Are you talking to _me?_ I don't know why you would be, seeing as I'm your commander. In case you've forgotten, I could gank you in three seconds flat." His gaze was steel as he fingered the knife in his pocket.

 "I'd like to see you try." The demon's host had a sneer on it's face when he plunged the knife into it's neck. Light radiated from him and Dean felt power surging through his veins.

 "Anybody else?" The others had stepped back, and he wanted to grin. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? "Or can we do what we came here to do?" There was silence, so Dean started walking. The two others flanked him; one woman and one man. When they reached the street, the two others veered off and Dean followed them. They were before an old apartment and the woman pulled out a small note. 

"Apartment seven," she whispered, starting forward. Just as Dean was about to follow, he swore he'd heard a few footsteps behind him. Shutting the door behind him, he retrieved a wooden chair and propped it against the doorknob. The others were two flights ahead of him, but he caught up quickly. Together the three stood outside the door, ready for a fight and a fight they got.

  
The angels inside were wary, and didn't seem very surprised when the trio busted through the door. One of the vessels was an older woman,which made Dean hesitate. The angel, however, did not and for the first time in his life Dean killed a granny. He wasn't very proud.  
  
His heart was on overdrive, pounding in his ears and he thought something close to a growl was  emanating from him. Because of his sensory overload, he failed to notice that everything had stopped. It was only the woman and Dean left, besides the group in the doorway. Dean's heart did a strange thing then, almost like stopping and restarting at its normal pace. "Sam."  
  
His little brother watched him, mouth slightly open and hands at his sides, speechless. The other demon leaned forward meaning to rush at him, but Dean's hand flew out and he uttered one single word in a deep voice, _"No."_  
  
"But he-" Though this demon obviously had some smarts, it didn't have enough. Dean pried his eyes away from his brother and turned to the woman.  
  
"We were sent to kill the angels. They're dead. Go _back."_ His voice was commanding and low, and he noticed Sam flinch in the corner of his eye. The demon looked at him angrily, but obeyed nonetheless. When she was gone, Dean turned back to Sam and Cas, who had both slowly stepped into the room.  
  
"Hey, Cas," Elation rose inside Dean, because they were here and only a little time was better than none. "Sam," he nodded.  
  
"Dean..." Sam's voice was quiet, but the intensity was unmistakable. "What the _Hell_ are you doing?"  
  
The smile that had wormed its way onto Dean's face fell and he rubbed at his stubble. He should've been used to disappointment, but some  
foolish part of him couldn't stop hoping. "I could ask you the same thing."  
  
" _We're_ hunting Metatron. A bunch of angel omens sparked here, so we decided to talk to them. I guess we're a little late." The younger Winchester was back to avoiding his brother's eyes. Dean felt like he was breaking all over again.  
  
"I guess you were," Dean's voice was soft as he paced around the room, finally settling on a seat. He didn't tire like he used to, but the tension was too high for him to stand, literally.  
  
"You're not Dean." Sam's voice was sure, and Dean almost laughed. "My brother would never join Demons."  
  
Something final had broken in Dean, and he no longer had restraint, not since the last fight. The desire to strike below the belt, to hurt, welled up within him and you cannot restrain an ocean. So Dean let go once more. "I guess I'm not your brother anymore, but I am Dean. What do you even care?" The words hurt, but the words were finally coming, so they had to be said.  
  
"What?" Sam recoiled as if he was struck, but that did not stop him. "I _love_ you, Dean, you're my family-"  
  
Dean stood, his foot stomping into the floor. "What do you know about family?" His feet brought him closer to Sam. Though he was a few inches shorter, Sammy seemed to shrink in his presence. "This is what  _you_ wanted, Sam. _You_ are the one who made _me_ the bad guy, Sammy. And you know what? I'd do it again, because it saved you. You would have  
done the same fucking-"  
  
Sam leaned back, no longer so small. He cut Dean off with one word, his voice once again soft. "No." Dean just stared at him and so he'd pushed on, "I wouldn't Dean. I would respect that you wanted to die. I would...I would let you go. I'm not...you're afraid of being alone. That's why you prefer to sacrifice and not be the one left behind. You don't want to feel pain, just...make everyone _else_ feel it. "  
  
The older Winchester stepped back, looking like the wind was knocked out of him. The anger seemed to drain from him, but when he spoke, he held the total attention of the room. "My whole life I been looking out for you, Sammy. Everything I have ever done has been for you. I have sacrificed, so, _so_ much for you. You wanna say I don't wanna feel pain? That's true, I don't know a single fucker who does. But don't you for one second think that I don't. All I have ever felt, particularly when it comes to _you_ is pain." Dean paused, looking at Cas for a moment. The angel had been silent, his eyes wide throughout the whole fight. He looked back at his little brother; his little Sammy. "You say I'm not your brother? Fine. I'm done spending my life being sorry and chasing after you."  
  
"Dean..." Sam, for once, looked like the broken one. His eyes were glassy, but Dean felt like he was out of breath. He didn't care anymore.  
  
"Save it. Goodbye, Sammy." The last word echoed around the room, and it felt like someone had died. Dean walked forward stiffly and found Cas in front of him. "Bye, Cas. I hope...I hope everything works out with you." A pat on the shoulder was all that Dean could manage. "Happy hunting."  
  
Sam didn't follow Dean, and the walk down the hallway and out of the building was crushingly silent. An air of finality hung between them and Dean wanted to feel guilty, to feel bad, but he couldn't. What he'd said was true and Dean couldn't deny that he regretted saying it all. The fight was a long time coming.  
  
When he got back to the warehouse, a slender redhead was waiting for him. "Family troubles?"  
  
"Shut up," Dean snapped, stuffing his fists into his pockets. "Take me home."  
  
"You're lucky I'm not a different girl, or I could take that the wrong way," Abaddon touched his shoulder again, but she didn't disappear when they were in his house. "I have news only for your ears."  
  
" _Cece_ won't be happy to hear that," Dean's sneered. His fatigue finally was catching up to him and he wanted to sleep. "What is it?"  
  
"We've found him," Abaddon's sharp-toothed smile sent shivers down Dean's back and he sighed. There was no way he was going to rest now. Dean had work to do.


	3. The End of the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were always going to end up here. He knows that now.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean held up his hands, his face scrunching in confusion, "I thought the Antichrist kid couldn't be found by angels or demons? Or even humans?"

Abaddon glanced at him from her seat in the car they were riding in, "You did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well..." Dean was at a loss for a retort, but it confused him still. The search was thought to be futile in the first place and Dean didn't even know what they wanted the kid for. Something nagged in the back of his mind once more, but it was getting easier to ignore.

He, Abaddon, Cecil and some low-rank demon were on their way to Detroit, Michigan to pick up the boy. It was supposed to help Abaddon win, but he didn't know why she needed  _more_ help. She was pretty fucking intimidating. It didn't make sense why a fifteen year old boy would make a difference. Abaddon spoke again, not bothering to turn back to him, "Now Dean, we only know a general location for the boy, so you'll have to go in and find him. He knows you, and you shouldn't have much of a problem."

Cecil sneered from his place in the car, disgust raising his lip. Dean rolled his eyes and let his gaze wander to the fast-moving scenery around them. He vaguely remembered something about this place, some case that he'd been working. Cecil, appearing to have grown some balls, spoke timidly, "Madam, are you sure...are you sure that  _he_ is the correct one for the task?"

Abaddon did not move, did not even bat an eyelash, but when she spoke, her voice was flint and steel, "Cecil...you think that I lack the ability to determine who is and who isn't proper for my tasks?"

The demon back-peddled, his black corpse face in almost comical terror. "No! No, of course not, I just..."

"You just thought that  _you_ were fit to make decisions. But, in fact, Dean Winchester, is more fit than you. You are a maggot, a  maggot who received a chance at redemption. I can put you right back where you started out. You'd do well to realize your place." This time Abaddon turned to glare at him through squinted eyes. Cecil sat back, looking down at his hands, and was quiet for the remainder of the ride. Dean grinned maliciously at the tinted window, the smile twisting his features. 

The drive was more or less silent until they reached their destination. The car stopped in front a mall, with large blue letters that read  _Mall of Monroe._ Abaddon wished him well and gave him a slip of paper with the name of a warehouse they'd be waiting at. His Impala was already sitting here from a previous scouting mission, so he was to drive away with the boy in that. Dean must've looked so out of place to the shoppers; a tall, rugged man in dark jeans and a leather jacket. More than one old lady shied away from him. He was just hoping to get this over with quickly. 

Jesse had to be here somewhere, and Dean had to guess at what this fifteen-year old was into. However, there weren't any books on what cambion teenagers did for fun, so Dean figured he was kind of screwed. He decided to sweep each store, and the first one he came to was a dimly lit clothing store. The amount of men who were wearing overly tight shirts disgusted him, but he peered at each and every customer discreetly. Just as he was about to turn away from the store and move onto the next one, a meaty hand clasped his shoulder from behind. Dean froze, his hand automatically going to pat his demon knife on the inside of his jacket. "Easy, tiger."

Dean relaxed, but still he bared his teeth. "Crowley."

"Yes darling, it's me in the flesh," The short man turned Dean around, grinning. He looked the same as always, with his black coat and bearded, round face. It felt like years since Dean had last seen him. 

"What do you want?" It came out as sort of a growl, and Crowley raised his eyebrows. 

"What's the matter? Didn't you miss your bestie?" Crowley leaned in, raising both of his arms up. Dean only glared at him. Time was wasting away and Dean had a job to do. "Enough of the chitchat. I brought you something."

Dean was suspicious as Crowley reached into his coat, and stepped back when he pulled out a knife. "What the Hell?"

"I'm still washing the salt out of my skin," Crowley remarked, turning it over in his hands. The First Blade. 

"Is this a joke?" Confusion narrowed Dean's eyes and he eyed the blade warily. 

"Would that it could," Crowley said softly. "Remember, you're the only one that can use it...and by extension, the only one who can kill Abaddon."

Dean took hold of the sharp-toothed knife, feeling it between his fingers. "And why would I kill Abaddon?"

Crowley studied his face for a moment, "Because you're Dean Winchester," Crowley paused, filling his cheeks with air, "and I wish you the best. I'm needed elsewhere. Castiel's a nasty little bugger when he wants to be."

Dean was left alone, turning the blade over in his hands in the dimly lit store. Abaddon accepted Dean when no one else had; there was no need to kill her. They were allied. Sighing, Dean tucked the First Blade into his jacket. Striding out of the store Dean continued his mission, brow set. 

* * *

 

The grind of the gravel against the tires was familiar to Dean. He'd spent more time on the road than off. He'd spent more time in the dark than the light, too. The black SUV Abaddon and the others had ridden in was already parked outside. 

"What are we doing here?" Dean had found Jesse Turner, or Jay Black as he'd been calling himself, inside an electronic store. He'd convinced the fifteen-year old to come talk to him, because he had new information on the angels and demons. "You're going to trick me!"

Dean rolled his eyes at the scrawny boy, "Kid, you could disappear in a second and I have no doubt you'd already be gone if you thought I was gonna really trick you." He took the keys out of the ignition, turning his towards torso to his passenger. "The woman who wants to see you, we're on the same side. You trust me, don't you?"

Jesse nodded reluctantly, and together they stepped out of the car. Dean noticed Jesse look nervously at the road behind them, but he didn't see anything so they continued inside. Abaddon was sitting at a little folding table. "Hello boys!" She flashed her teeth victoriously and Jesse stopped in his tracks. 

"Abaddon," Dean nodded, "This is Jesse Turner."

"Jesse," Her smile was wide and she looked like she'd achieved her ultimate goal in life, and that everything was hers for the taking. "Jesse, Jesse, Jesse..." Abaddon smiled, rising from her rickety seat. "I've been waiting a  _very_ long time to meet you."

Jesse stayed silent, fists clenched. Cecil stepped forward from his place behind Abaddon, his arm extended. Before he could make more than two steps, he fell to his knees, clutching his neck. Black smoke poured from his vessel's mouth in a scream and Dean raised his eyebrows. Abaddon did not bat an eyelash. Jesse unclenched his fists, flexing his fingers. The red-head clapped, the smile still fixed on her face, "Thank you, Jesse. You just told me exactly what I need to know."

Dean tilted his head, "What's that?" Sure, he didn't like Cecil, but the demon had been pretty loyal to Abaddon. Cecil had only been trying to introduce himself, perhaps trying to look betterin front of Abaddon, but Dean realized she'd only ever been using him.

Instead of anger, delight shone on Abaddon's flushed cheeks, "It means that Lucifer is on earth. It means our master has returned." Before Dean could react, Abadddon turned her head, and said softly, "His vessel is here as well. Just in time, too." Two other demons, including the one who had driven before, emerged from the shadows. "Go greet him and his party, will you?"

"Sam's here?" Dean stepped forward, his brow furrowing. 

Abaddon laughed, "Of course he's here. He was tailing us all the way to Detroit, and he's been following you since the mall. If he's smart enough," she shrugged, walking forward, "he'll have figured out that this boy's powers mean that Lucifer walks the Earth once more."

Shouting from the outside of the warehouse could be heard, and Dean saw two bright flashes of light through the dusty window. It took a few more minutes for Crowley, Cas, and Sam to enter and Dean stared at Sam the whole time. "Sammy," Abaddon said whimsically, "what a pleasure to see you again."

Crowley started forward, walking towards Dean in a relaxed manner. He obviously didn't expect any harm to come to him. However, Abaddon had other plans, "Grab him, Dean."

Crowley was shorter and slightly weaker, and Dean's strength had improved drastically since they'd last fought. Within a minute Crowley was in a chokehold, with Dean's malicious sneer at his neck, next to the First Blade pressed curtly against the stubbly skin. "Let him go!" It was Sam who shouted, but it was Abaddon who laughed. Dean was the only one who watched Jesse disappear, panic propelling the boy into nothingness.

"What is Crowley to  _you?"_ She brushed her red curls behind her shoulder. 

"What is Dean to  _you?"_ This time it was Cas who spoke, anger leaking into his voice. Dean tilted his head, gaze moving from Sam to Cas.

"Dean Winchester is  _my_ brother now," She walked up to Dean, draping a slender arm around his shoulders. Her chest was pressed tightly against his back, almost as if she meant to hold him tight. "We are bonded by Lucifer."

Sam stumbled forward, meeting Dean's eyes for the first time in a long while. "Dean..." He swallowed, ignoring Abaddon's laughter. "Dean, you were there for me. When Lucifer possessed me, you were there for me. You almost died. I...I'm sorry Dean. I'm going to be there for you now. I know...I know I haven't been the best brother lately, but I love you, I do. You never,  _never_ would have became this, the thing you used to hunt. But you're a demon now, and it's my fault. I'm sorry." 

Dean's grip on the First Blade wavered, and Crowley looked at him as much as he could.  Abaddon was talking, but Dean couldn't hear what she was saying. 

_I'm not sure if he's my brother anymore. If he ever was._

_I had one job, and I screwed it up. I blew it, and for that, I'm sorry. I guess that’s what I do. I let down the people I love. You know, I let Dad down, and now I guess I’m just supposed to let you down, too._

_You know, like it's my job to keep him safe.  _

_There's always something eating at me. That's who I am._

_I made you a promise in that church. You and me, come whatever. Well, hell, if this ain’t whatever. But you gotta let me in, man, you gotta let me help. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you._

 Time seemed to stop in that moment, everything clicking together. They were allways going to end up here and he knew that deep in his soul. Dean remembered now, and though he was scared, he was calm.

Abaddon was still pressed into his back, trying to taunt Sam. Sammy. Oh _God_ , what had Dean done? The First Blade, the blade that Cain had used to both kill and save his brother in the same stroke, slid from Crowley's neck and into the air. Before any of the others knew what was happening, the blade swung down and into Dean's chest. It hurt, it hurt more than anything, but Abaddon's screams dulled the pain somewhat. A flash of light behind him told him that the blade had met its mark. 

Abaddon and Dean fell together, held together by nothing more than a toothpick. Crowley had dodged away when the blade had been raised and he knelt by Dean, grasping the butt of the knife and pulling both it and Dean free. "I never doubted you, Squirrel." 

Crowley disappeared, but Sam quickly replaced him. Metallic-tasting blood was filling Dean's mouth, spilling from it and onto his chin, but he had something he had to say. It came in the form in a tortured choke, but it was sincere. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Dean, no, no, Dean, you're gonna be okay, you will, oh God, Cas  _help me!"_ Words were tumbling from Sam's mouth, but they fell on dead ears. Cas knelt by Sam, hands flustering everywhere. Everything felt numb and broken, four legs soaking with the blood of a brother and an enemy. Neither of them could have noticed the woman with short, dark hair and the rugged man with the leather jacket walking together out of the warehouse and into oblivion. They were at the end of the road. 

**End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean sacrificed himself for Sammy one last time. In case you didn't get it, the second to last line is referencing Tessa and Dean. There are a few inconsistencies, and I'm sorry for that. Also two lines are showing up italicized on the published version, but not on the drafted one? 
> 
> Check out my fic The End, which is much more eloquent and smooth in my opinion, plus there's slight destiel.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. The first couple chapters are going to be in Dean's pov and then it will switch off from there.


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